


An Understanding

by TypingBosmer



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Emotional Constipation, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Last Resort of Good Men, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27556729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TypingBosmer/pseuds/TypingBosmer
Summary: After the confrontation with his father, Dorian has a drink with his former mentor.
Relationships: Dorian Pavus & Halward Pavus, Gereon Alexius & Dorian Pavus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	An Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> It has been established in my other fics and roleplays that Alexius is bi, hence his reference to keeping a part of himself hidden (his wife Livia knew, but few other people did). But that is, obviously, my own headcanon.

Dorian's strides are brusque, determined — reckless even. He marches towards the Herald's Rest tavern as if he were on a life-or-death mission. And, well, perhaps drinking oneself into a stupor can be described as such.

But he is not even halfway there, with the tavern's beckoning windows still as tiny as a swarm of fireflies in the distance — when his line of vision is blocked by two most curious objects. A tall, enticingly round-bellied wine bottle, and a glass to match.

They hover in front of his face, their outlines traced in vivid green by telekinetic magic. And the mage that's controlling them is standing a few steps further. His fingers are cupped over a second glass; and tucked under his arm, there is another bottle.

'If I cannot dissuade my former apprentice from drinking the evening away,' he says, when Dorian gives him a silent questioning look. 'Then I can at least offer an alternative to that ghastly swill you are so fond of'.

In the dusk, Dorian squints at the bottles' labels.

'That's an Antivan vintage,' he cocks his head to his shoulder, with a mix of astonishment and approval. 'For a quasi-imprisoned researcher, you have access to quite a treasure trove'.

As they duck into one of the labyrinthine passages that lead into the Skyhold gardens, the other mage, Alexius, keeps apace with the banter... Even though the playful nonchalance that tickles his lips into a smirk does not quite reach his eyes. Few emotions do, these days. But hopefully, pretty soon Dorian will be too tipsy to dwell on that.

'Whom do you think the Ambassador asked to enchant the doors of the wine cellar so that they would repel one person, and one person only — a certain Dorian Pavus?' he notes, looking up from settling the bottles and glasses down on a bench in the courtyard gallery.

Dorian plasters his hand over his chest dramatically.

'Why Gereon, I feel utterly betrayed!'

Alexius hms to himself and sits down, the bottles in between him and Dorian, while his gaze wanders into the dark.

'Consider it my plea for forgiveness. Just this once, though. Because you need to unwind... After all that happened'.

They spend the next few moments savouring the wine and idly watching the hazy dance of light and shadow in the garden. Splashed with the first silver droplets by the rising moon, it is all but deserted this late in the evening.

The new apothecary skulks by without a sound on cat-like tiptoe. Her elven eyes glow amid the encroaching blackness like two wisps of green mage fire. They narrow into disapproving crescents when Dorian raises his glass in a teasing toast to her - but she says nothing, and when she vanishes around the corner, the two mages' only remaining company is a far-off sleepy cricket. And each other.

'When I was about your age...' Alexius says suddenly, his half-absent gaze following the swirls and sloshes of wine in his glass — deeply red; blood-like. 'My father attempted to salvage his... legacy by killing Felix. Because he had too little magic to be a perfect heir'.

He finishes his drink and, after yet another refill from his chubby bottle, lifts his glass so high that the moon finds it, and coats it in a dewy shimmer. Like Dorian toasted to the grumpy elf, he is toasting to the sky.

'Thankfully, while I moped about, Livia stood up to him. Put his scheming to a very, very permanent end. She was braver than me in that regard'.

His eyes dart back to Dorian - burning with emotion this time.

'As are you'.

Dorian holds the pause, like a baited breath, in quiet understanding.

Alexius was there; he returned to the Gull and Lantern. At the Inquisitor's request - in case they needed help with the 'Tevinter retainer'. But it turned out that the Inquisitor needed help with Alexius — help with holding him back as he lashed out at Dorian's father, lightning convulsing in his crooked fingers.

Among the things he screamed, Dorian remembers a blurted-out confession.

_'I was happy with my wife; I was fortunate enough to marry for love - but I still had to keep a part of who I am, of whose affections I seek, hidden under lock and key! Dorian refuses to do that! Do you have any idea how courageous one has to be for that? When surrounded by people like you?'_

Confessions always leave Dorian disarmed. So, after pondering over all the awkward ways in which he could let Alexius know that he is thankful for... not being alone, he opts for more banter.

'I am not going to kill my father', he says, in as upbeat a way as possible. 'And you had better not do that either'.

'Well, since you asked nicely,' Alexius quips back, while the spark of fire in his eyes all but simmers away.

It comes alive again after another pause, spreading in a pool of liquid light.

'Dorian...' he says, searching his face, sounding quite choked up. 'Do you remember what I said to you when we first met? When you told me of your struggles at home?'

'You will always have a home with me,' Dorian murmurs, the choking wetness reaching his eyes as well.

In hindsight, maybe the cheap ale would have been better than this wine. He would have finished the night by getting into a jolly old bar brawl, not being smothered by bloody emotions.

'I am sorry I cannot keep this promise any more,' Alexius turns away, pressing his arms closer to himself... Perhaps to guard against the mountain cold, which even the warmth of alcohol cannot quite keep at bay.

'I lost my title, my holdings in Tevinter; even this robe on my back was issued by the Inquisition. I am not longer the powerful _patronus_ that took you under his wing'.

Oh kaffas. Here comes his own confession after all.

'If there is anything I learned in the south,' Dorian says, gripping Alexius' shoulder, 'Home is not quite a mansion or a castle. It is being understood'.


End file.
